


move on in (i've got a plan, and it might not work, but it's worth a shot)

by PaleAssassin



Series: look at all these sinners (trying their hands at being saints) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Don't ask me why, Female Tony Stark, Genderswap, I really don't know what else to tag this as, M/M, only a tiny bit this time, someone should help me with that, tony likes to collect people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleAssassin/pseuds/PaleAssassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark likes to collect broken things.<br/>(or, how Tony Stark's tower was taken over by superheroes, and how she didn't mind.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	move on in (i've got a plan, and it might not work, but it's worth a shot)

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, hey, I actually wrote another thing. Well, I tried at least. I'm not convinced it's the best it could be, but I've been editing it for the past two days (whenever I get time to sit down and edit, anyway), and it's been about three weeks since I put out the first one, so I thought I'd just post it anyway.  
> Yes, I did decide to try to continue this series. I make no promises on actually finishing it, but I've already written the first chapter of the next story and the very beginning of a fourth, so it very well could happen. And yes, my titles are long. I'm a fan of Fall Out Boy and Panic! at the Disco, what do you expect?  
> QUICK NOTE. I know it’s not cannon, but Tony is about 34-36 in this story. Don't ask me why, I just made her a bit younger.  
> I think that's enough notes for now. Enjoy!

Tony Stark is lonely. Well, not really lonely, per se. She has JARVIS and her bots, she has Pepper and Happy, and Rhodey still calls in almost every two days to check on her (like he has been since she _fell out of the goddamn **sky**_ ), but she’s definitely missing human interaction. She lives in a giant, half broken skyscraper with nothing but her bots - and Bruce, at times - to keep her company. Which is why, less than a month after the New York Incident – because she isn’t calling what happened anything other than an _incident_ , thank you very much – Tony decides she’ll offer the Avengers a place to stay.

Bruce is already pretty much living with her, though he sleeps somewhere else. Natasha and Clint live wherever SHIELD places them. Thor is still in Asgard with his crazy brother. The Cap, he’d be the hardest to find, though not by much. He was either stuck with SHIELD like Natasha and Clint, or somewhere in Brooklyn. All Tony would have to do for him was ask Clint where he’s staying. And, when that inevitably failed, because Clint listens to exactly half of what he really needs to and relies on Natasha for the other half, she’d ask him to ask Natasha for her.

It took less time to get Fury to sign off on the plan than it took to think the plan up in the first place. He saw it as a way to keep the Avengers in one place, making it so much easier to call on them if another disaster like The Incident happened. She had placed a document on his desk and let him read through it, waiting and preparing for a counter-argument. Instead, she got his signature on the contract, stating that Stark Industries – or more, Tony –would pay for damages and groceries, while SHIELD would leave them alone unless there was an emergency.

He did, however, force Tony to gather the team together herself. It was annoying at best, but it would be worth it to fill her empty house with people who’d be entertaining, if not friendly.

And, of course, she’d start her collecting with Clint.

\-----

It was easy enough to find Clint. They sparred twice every week, when Tony wasn’t working and Clint didn’t have a mission. The week after she thought up her absolutely insane plan to house a superhero team, she and Clint met up at their usual place – a little broken down gym not far from Stark Tower – for sparring and, probably, because it’s Clint, going to lunch after punching each other in the face for an hour.

Tony is already wrapping her hands when Clint walks in, heavy bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish look on his face. There’s still a slight trace of the guilt that had crushed him after the Incident, but it was mostly gone thanks to Natasha and Tony herself. She couldn’t have her best friend thinking everything that happened ( _ ~~don’t think about Coulson **don’t think about Coulson**~~_ ) was because of him.

“What’s with the face, Bird Brain?” Tony said casually, pressing the tape down on her wrist to secure it.

Surprisingly, Clint startled, jerking his head - though careful to keep the right side of his face obscured, she’d have to find out what the hell he was up to with that - up to where she sat, on top of some of the mats they hardly ever used. She shrugged apologetically, though inwardly winced at the flash of guilt that still filtered through when he saw the slightly raised scar mostly hidden by her hairline, courtesy of one of his arrows.

“Nothing, Tones.” He said shortly, dropping his bag and digging through it to find his own boxing tape. Neither he nor Tony could stand the heavy sparring gloves, preferring to use plain old boxing tape for whenever they sparred.

“Uh-huh. Wanna try that again?” She asked, jumping down from her perch (and seriously, when did she start perching on things like he did?) and walking over to him.

He looked up at her shamefacedly, and she was only slightly surprised to find that the entirety of the right side of his face was black and blue. Clint, despite being one of the best sharpshooters in SHIELD, had even less tact than Natasha did, and that was saying something.

“So,” Tony smirked, pressing a gentle hand to the bruising around his eye and being careful not to let any of the concern she felt show in her voice, “Fury finally get tired of you? Sent you to me to get knocked around so that stick up your ass can get loose?”

Clint laughed, but it sounded rusty, hollow, and a lot like Tony’s when she was entertaining some dimwitted man in a thousand dollar suit, “Nah, I just… I got caught sleeping in Coulson’s office again and tripped when they threw me out so-“

“ _Wait_ , wait-wait-wait-wait,” Tony interrupted, eyes narrowing in on the bruising and resolutely ignoring the fact that her best friend was still sleeping in Coulson’s office, “They threw you out? As in, no more sleeping there?” _Or, no more_ Agent _Barton?_ She thought silently.

He nodded silently, gesturing to his bag. She could just see the outline of his bow, though the rest of the duffle seemed to be stuffed to the brim with clothes. It was almost pathetically funny, to see all of this man’s possessions wrapped up and stored away in a bag, to see just how little he actually, truly, owned. It made Tony want to laugh and cry, simultaneously, and maybe in sync. At the same time, it made her see red.

“I was just gonna—“

“Scratch any plans for new room and board that you have, Feathers,” Tony interrupted again, earning an exasperatedly fond look from said non-feathered friend, “You’re living with me. It’s official. That’s what I was going to ask you about anyway. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Natasha to get her in on this plan, same with the Capsicle. Bruce is already in on it, I think, I might have told him. Maybe. Or that might be the coffee talking again. Also, I think I was drunk off my ass at the time, but that’s beside the point. Oh, I haven’t told you the plan yet. Well the plan is –“

“ _Tony_ ,” Clint said, only half annoyed at her tendency to ramble, “I was going to ask if I could stay with you. Maybe bribe you with promising to cook every once and awhile.”

“Oh,” She said. It was almost surprising, yet at the same time, it wasn’t. She’d offered for him to stay with her after her evaluation as a superhero was over (and she was labeled as unfit for the Avengers, while her suit _was_ … what the _hell_ was that about?), maybe get away from the one-eyed dragon that lurked the halls of the Helicarrier, but he’d refused. More for Coulson than anything.

And there it was again, that familiar ache where her heart still beats in tandem with the arc reactor. The mere thought of Coulson brought unwanted, yet warranted, feelings of guilt and the desire to go to Asgard herself just so she can stab Loki through his treacherous heart, like he did for Coulson and everyone who loved him.

Tony almost felt unjustified in her grief. She’d known the agent for less than an eighth of how long Clint had known him, and probably knew him half as much as Clint did. If anyone deserved to grieve, it was the man who loved Coulson more than he loved his bow and, sometimes, himself.

She knew, compared to the ache in her heart, the heartbreak Clint felt was a thousand times worse. This was his… just _his_. Coulson was _his_ , and he was _Coulson’s_. There was no label for who they were to each other. Tony had seen them interact, and she’d never seen anyone whose love was like what they had. She shouldn’t have the ache in her heart when Clint was the one who just lost half of his soul.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Tony whipped her head up to the source. Clint’s battered face stared down at her, solemnly blank. The two stared at each other, each gaining some little understanding from the other. Clint’s face broke into what was probably supposed to be a smile.

“You got that look in your eye again,” He said, taking his hand off her shoulder, only to grab her hand and drag her to the center of a group of mats, “That look you get when you’re thinking too hard.”

Tony could see that he was trying to regain some semblance of normalcy, so she went along with the tease. “I never think too hard,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes, “Genius, remember? It’s physically impossible for me to think _too_ hard.”

“Oh, I’m so _rry_ , Miss Smarty Pants,” Clint replied, bringing his hands up in loose fists, “Guess I should remember you’re an absolute know-it-all.”

“Are we back in the fourth grade, Feathers?” Tony brought her own hands up, shifting from joking with underlying concern to almost forceful concentration.

“Don’t know about you, Tones,” He gave her a real grin for the first time in what seemed like an age, “But I’m definitely going to resort to some less mature tactics.”

She barely had a second to laugh before he tackled her to the ground and started tickling her, proving that yes, Clint Barton, codenamed “Hawkeye”, master assassin and sharpshooter, could act like he was six years old again.

\-----

Tony wiped sweat off her face with the back of her hand, though she knew it only wiped the sweat from her hand onto her face. She shook her hand in disgust, ignoring her friend’s chuckling at her quirks. A second later, a towel landed on her head.

The chuckling turned into all-out laughter. Tony tore the bright white towel off her head, glaring at Clint while smiling inside. It was good to hear him laugh.

“Come _on_ , Tones,” He grinned at her, “Hurry up! I’m hungry.”

Tony’s glare broke, and she laughed. “Is that _my_ problem?” She teased, running the towel against her hair to get rid of some of the sweat while walking towards the showers. She threw the dirty towel back at Clint, who dodged it quickly. He sent her a hurt look.

“ _Tony_ ,” He whined, though he was smiling as he trotted behind her, only stopping at the door, where he sat outside, “ _Feed me_. I’m a poor little orphan who needs your money.”

She stripped out of her clothes, knowing Clint would never look in on her. In fact, she felt safer knowing he was right outside. Nothing could happen to her while a master assassin was guarding her door.

Tony turned the water on, stepping under the spray, “Poor little orphan?” She asked, smirking, “I know for a fact that you have at least three years of back pay that you never used because you always mooched off of others.” She was very careful to not mention exactly _who_ he had been mooching off of, for both their sakes.

“ _And_?” He asked, almost shouting over the sound of the shower, “Doesn’t mean I can’t still convince you to buy me lunch.”

“You’re going to be living with me,” Tony replied, though internally winced at the reminder of exactly why her best friend was invading her homestead, “I don’t think I need to pay for your lunch as well.”

He whined again. She laughed at him, turning off the shower and toweling herself off. Her workout clothes were too damp to wear, but she found a pair of her own sweats and one of Clint's hoodies on the counter for her. Tony slid into the clothes, quickly pulling her tangled hair into a messy ponytail and walking back into the main room. Clint looked up at her from the floor.

She spun around in a quick circle, ending with a flourish. “Think anyone will recognize me in this get-up?” She asked with a smirk.

“Nah," He grinned, "No one will recognize the Great Tony Stark in a pair of sweats and a hoodie."

Tony smacked him on the back of the head lightly. "Little shit," She said fondly, ruffling his hair to make up for the smack, "Come on. You can pick where we eat."

He whooped, jumping up and grabbing his bag. Tony followed him out, shaking her head at him. There was still the guilt, still the sadness over the death of his lover, but Clint was doing better. And now, she had him under her roof.

The main challenge was convincing the rest.

\-----

“What do you want?” Natasha’s voice sounded cold and hard even through the phone. Tony winced at the tone. How the woman even knew it was her - because Tony was calling from an _unlisted number_ for a _reason_ \- she would never know.

This was why she didn’t want to be the one to convince the Russian to move in. Clint didn’t really understand how much Natasha hated her. He didn’t see the look in her eyes when she demeaned _Captain America_. He didn’t see the way she moved towards Tony when she’d joked with Coulson about the “cellist”, like she was getting ready to murder her. Natasha Romanoff did not like Tony Stark.

_Take a breath,_ She told herself, _Don’t be Tony Stark. Be Iron Woman._

“I want,” She said slowly and clearly, “to offer you a place to live.”

Natasha snorted, but Tony barreled on, “We need the Avengers all in one place in case something like Loki ever happens again. You know it, I know it, Fury knows it. Fury signed off on it.”

The other end of the line was silent. Tony could almost hear the wheels in the other woman’s head turn as she thought the offer over. She had Natasha on the ropes; she just had to pull out all the stops.

“Clint’s already here. Bruce, too. At least, I think. I need you to tell me how to contact the Captain, but then we’ll all be in one place and Fury can call our asses up when the NYPD can’t handle some alien invasion. Come on, Romanoff.”

“... Fine,” She replied after a pause, “Send me the address to this phone. I’ll send you Captain Rogers’ info in a minute.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, but Natasha had already hung up on her.

_Oh well,_ She thought _, At least I was able to convince her. Now it’s down to Rogers and Banner._

\-----

Tony slipped quietly into the lab Bruce had taken over. She’d let him stay at her place while he figured out where he’d live, but she’d always hoped he would just stay here. Bruce was someone who understood and didn’t judge. He was quiet, could cook (not as well as Clint, but he could _cook_ ), and actually listened to her instead of just hearing her and talking back.

It was selfish, but she wanted him to stay.

He was the main reason she’d even thought of the whole “House-the-Avengers” plan. Bruce didn’t exactly have a place to live after The Incident, so she’d extended a welcome with open arms. Not physically -- after that battle, she could hardly even move her _fingers_ , let alone her _arms_ \-- but the point still stood. It gave her the idea to surround herself with these people, these heroes, to make herself feel a little less alone.

(And maybe make her feel a little less like a failure, less like a fake hero, more like she actually belonged somewhere.)

Tony was almost fifty percent (46.59%, to be exact) sure she’d already told Bruce about her plan, but like she told Clint, she was drunk off her ass and sleep deprived the day she’d thought it up. It was likely that she’d hallucinated the whole thing.

“Are you going to sit at the door and brood, or are you going to come in?” A voice interrupted her thoughts. Tony jerked her head up, giving Bruce a guilty, sheepish smile. The scientist shook his head, going back to whatever experiment he had going on. All she could see from her place by the door was beakers bubbling over.

“Am I interrupting?” She asked, walking over to peer at the beakers. Bruce swatted her away, taking the bubbling concoction off of the burner he’d had it on and placing it to the side to cool down.

He took of his protective goggles and gloves and set them on the table, turning his full attention to the genius. “Not anymore,” He responded, “Would you even care if you had been?”

“Got me there, Brucie,” She smirked, backing up so that she could sit down on the bench across from Bruce’s workstation. Bruce busied himself with cleaning various parts of what had become his lab. He knew Tony better than she thought; he knew that he just had to wait and she would tell him exactly why she came down to the lab at four o’clock in the afternoon, completely sober and mostly-emotionally-stable.

After three minutes of silence, Tony finally broke. “So, remember that day I was really _really_ drunk and I came down to your lab to complain about shit?” She asked, leaning back against the table behind her and almost completely closing her eyes. Through a small slit, she saw Bruce nod. “Did you listen to anything I said that night?”

“I always listen to you, Tony,” Bruce said back, but his tone was teasing, with a slight undertone of sardonicism. Tony wasn’t sure he really _did_ listen to her that day.

She sighed irritably- though there was a smile on her face, so it didn’t really count as irritable-, opening her eyes again and sitting up. “Did you hear my plan?”

“You mean, the “Operation Get-everyone-to-live-in-my-house-because-I-don’t-want-to-be-a-total-dick? That plan?” He asked mildly. Tony blinked.

“Damn. I should be calling it that instead of “Operation House-the-Avengers”.”

Bruce nodded, more to the unspoken answer that they were talking about the same plan than actually agreeing to her statement. Tony continued, “So, did I actually tell you about the plan, or did I just shout about it? Come on, Banner, I need more than questions answering my questions.”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce said patiently, putting his goggles and gloves back on so he could check his beaker, “You told me about “House-the-Avengers”. I already told you I was moving in. My stuff will be here tomorrow.”

“Oh,” She blinked, not really all that surprised. She didn’t remember much from that day, other than actually thinking up her stupid little idea of housing a superhero team. She was surprised, however, that Bruce had actually agreed with her drunken logic.

Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Bruce merely smiled and said, “You told me that I was already home, I was just sleeping in a house some ways away. You thought it was stupid that I hadn’t just packed up and moved here. I thought you were right, despite the fact that you slurred the whole thing.

“It was logical,” He added, “And it would be better to live with a friend than alone.”

A shard of emotion speared her through the heart. Tony looked in awe at this person, this man who just called her a friend after knowing her for a month. It took Rhodey at least three months to even ask her to go places with him instead of the other way around. For Pepper, it took two years before she really figured out who Tony Stark was (not that Tony really knew herself, mind you). Clint was different, but they were both assholes anyway. They didn’t really have much else, other than each other. Add that to the fact that she had been dying when she met him, it wasn’t surprising that they became fast friends. But with Bruce – perfect, kind, quiet Bruce – he calls himself her friend after a month of being around her.

It was enough to make Tony cry, but that isn’t who she is. She doesn’t cry just because someone decided to be her friend, despite her emotional instability when it came to relationships. She didn’t even have friends, not really. Just people who wanted her money, and people who she thought of as family. Bruce was family now. So, blinking back water in her eyes (from the chemicals, okay?) she just gives him a small grin, getting up from her seat and leaving.

Tony knew he was watching her leave. Bruce Banner knew more about Tony Stark after a month than Rhodey did after almost twenty years. He wasn’t fooled by her lack of response.

He knew Tony Stark had a heart. That’s why she was gathering the Avengers at her tower, anyway.

\-----

A quick call to Jane Foster, Thor’s girlfriend/lover/betrothed, or whatever the hell they are, confirmed that Thor would be staying at the newly-dubbed Avengers Tower whenever he was on Earth. Well, not exactly confirmed, but Tony was 94.57% sure he would, if Dr. Foster remembered to tell him.

After that call, it was down to Captain America, a.k.a, Steve Rogers.

True to her word, Romanoff had sent Tony Captain Rogers address right after their conversation had finished. She’d tried to put off asking him for as long as possible, but she was out of people to ask. Clint was already set up in his room, same with Natasha and Bruce. Thor was still in Asgard. The only person left on the Avengers that wasn’t living in her home was the All-American Boy Scout.

She’d been dreading going over to his apartment in Brooklyn. Tony blamed it mostly on the long drive, though it was only a little more than half an hour to get from the Tower to the Captains Quarters (ha, she cracks herself up sometimes). It was more the fact that almost half of her team hated her.

Clint loved her. That was a given. They were best friends, family, really. He knew her deepest, darkest secrets, and she knew his. It was mutual trust, but they’d known each other before The Incident. Bruce liked her, though she thought it was more their shared love of science and figuring out the unknown. Thor loved everyone, because he was Thor. The god was more like a fluffy golden retriever than anything, so he didn’t really count. Natasha and Steve, they hated her.

And, while she thought of all the reasons she should just leave and bribe Clint to talk to the good Captain for her, the door she’d been debating on knocking on flew open. In place of the weathered oak, blond hair and blue eyes stared at her, more concealed confusion than accusation.

“What are you doing here, Stark?” Captain Rogers asked, backing away from the door. He was going to let her in. How quaint.

“I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative,” Tony said, trying her best to imitate Fury. The joke was lost on the Captain, who tilted his head slightly to the side and gave up on trying to look like he wasn’t absolutely baffled.

“No, really, Stripes,” Tony said, leaning up against the doorframe and placing one hand on her hip, forcing the man to step back. It was an art form, making a man uncomfortable in his own home. Tony had perfected it by the age of sixteen. “I’m gathering the Avengers. Fury wants us all in one place in case another batshit insane alien from some mythical world decides that humans need to be ruled by a higher power.” Cap startled at her use of language, and then glared down at her. The products of being from the 1930’s, Tony decided, were sexism and thought that women were perfect little angels meant to please men. Oh well. That meant she could have fun breaking him of his misogynistic habits. Or watch Natasha kick his ass a few times. “I offered my tower as a boarding school for superheroes and Fury signed off on it.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” The Captain inquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and putting his hands behind his back. His chin lifted in a show of dominance.

Now it was back to their strange little game they’d played on the Helicarrier, back when the world was ending and they had nothing but sharp words and hot anger. It was push and pull, both waiting for the other to fall off the edge. Two big egos, two different personalities, heading straight for the edge and not stopping until the other backs down.

“I don’t need your mistrust, Blondie,” Tony snapped back, clenching the hand on her hip into a fist, “If you don’t believe _me_ , call Natasha. Or SHIELD.”

Surprisingly, he backed down. The Captain put his hands up, backing away a bit. Tony felt an inkling of pride in getting him to concede first.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” He said, but his eyes stayed defiant and chin remained up, “I was just asking.”

“Well then, if you didn’t _mean_ to,” Tony muttered sarcastically.

Their argument settled into an uncomfortable silence. It was awkward, having him not speak and refusing to say anything before he asked a question. Verbal battle turned into a battle over dominance, either side not stepping down off their pedestal.

Awkward silence quickly turned tense, and Tony couldn’t handle the reticence. “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m here, Captain Serious?” She blurted, finally unclenching her hand.

“It’s _Steve_ , Stark,” The Captain said exasperatedly instead of answering

“It’s _Tony_ , Captain,” Tony shot back sharply.

He seemed to think it over a second, even placing a finger on his chin. Tony sighed explosively, but he merely smiled marginally. “Deal,” He said, sticking out a hand. Tony hesitantly took it, shaking the man’s hand up and down once before dropping it like it burned. “Now,” He said, “Why are you here, Tony?”

“In case you haven’t been _listening_ , Steve,” Tony replied, a slight undertone of nastiness staying in her words, “I’m here to ask you to move in to the newly minted Avengers Tower. Everyone else is already there. Well, not Thor, but he doesn’t count because he’s not even on Earth right now. What matters is that you're the last piece of the puzzle, Cap."

He seemed surprised at her small speech, like she shouldn't be so stuck on getting the team in one place. Either that or he was surprised that she was being a bit more hospitable. Probably the latter more than the former.

"Well?" Tony asked impatiently, tapping her foot and looking at her watch. She was going to be late for lunch with Pepper. "I'm on a time schedule here, Rogers. Going to meet my CEO for lunch. Gotta treat your employees right. What's your answer?"

For a second, Tony thought he was going to refuse. The man _really_ didn't like her, so why would he live with her? It didn't matter that they wouldn't be alone together, but one bad apple could ruin the whole bowl. Or more, one bad banana could murder its fellow fruit when it slowly dies a terrible, painful death, but that was too much of a literal analogy and took way too long to say.

But then he nodded slowly. "Yeah," Steve replied, "Just give me the address and I'll come over later this week.

"I don't have much in the ways of packing," He continued apologetically (and why the hell was he _apologizing_ to her for his lack of paraphernalia?), "But I'd like to spend another day or two here, if that's okay."

"Don't ask me, Red, White, and Blue," Tony said back with a wry smile, handing him a ready-made piece of paper with the address written in black, bold letters, "I just provide room and board. The rest, you'll have to ask Olaf One-Eye."

"I don't understand that reference," Steve deadpanned, face falling back into the bored, irritated expression he’d worn around her during the battle, “Or who you’re talking about.”

Tony sighed, rolling her eyes and standing up straight. Whoever was in charge of acclimating the six foot man-out-of-time was not doing their job right. "Fury. I meant Fury. Remind me to introduce you to the wonders of video games. Or ask Clint. He knows more than I do."

With that, Tony turns on four inch heels and leaves, calmly walking right up until he can't see her, and then sprinting out to her waiting car as if fire was nipping at her heels.

\-----

Two weeks later, Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, _~~slut~~_ , philanthropist, super hero, is sitting at her kitchen island with her scarred, calloused hands wrapped around a hot mug of coffee. There’s a master assassin cooking breakfast in her kitchen, a super soldier reading the paper at the table behind her, a Russian spy sharpening her knives sitting at the place across from him. A Norse god is toasting poptarts and drinking coffee, while a nuclear physicist who sometimes turns into a giant green rage monster is slumped over the island next to her, mug of scorching tea in hand. Thanks to a movie they’d watched the night before, Thor was interrogating Clint about Jason Bourne and how he could _ever_ forget who he was, while Clint is just throwing bullshit back at him and flipping pancakes. Steve is talking to Natasha quietly, inquiring about some movie he’d seen a preview for, while she tries her best to answer him in a way that tells him, no, he does not want to go see _This is the End_ , it would mortify him. Bruce is grumbling to her about some experiment gone awry, mumbling equations under his breath and drawing on the tablet she’d placed under his free had.

This was normal. This was her life now, she kept telling herself. She had a group of superheroes sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, talking about the weather. They saved the world, this group of broken people. They made the world a better place, if only for a little while.

She caught Clint’s eye as he put some of the finished pancakes in the oven to stay warm. He gave her a mischievous smile, winking as he placed a bit of cayenne pepper into one of the pancakes, clearly meant for either Thor or Steve. Tony laughed silently. Bruce stopped his calculations to glare at the archer, but then Clint set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the counter next to him, and Bruce ignored him in favor of shoveling the food into his mouth as fast as he could without choking.

The archer looked back at Tony, impish grin turning soft at something he must’ve seen in her face. Not too soft; he was still a SHIELD agent, no matter how much fun they had together. Clint didn’t _do_ soft.

He turned back to his pancakes after a second, flipping them over. Assured that they wouldn't burn, he got the finished pancakes out of the oven, set two of the chocolate chip and blueberry ones on a plate, and handed them to her. He placed the powdered sugar next to her coffee, knowing that she wouldn’t want syrup with her pancakes. She smiled back at him, understanding exactly what he was saying.

_It’s alright now, Tony._

_It is_ , she thought, shoving a bite of the pancakes into her mouth and laughing at the face Bruce gave her when powdered sugar puffed up and covered him in a thin veil of the sugar, _it really is._

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, yeah, that was still really fucking long. These first two were only supposed to be one-shots, and turned into more than five thousand words. It almost annoyed me, because I just couldn't stop writing.  
> On that note, sorry it took so long for me to get this one out. School's been absolute Hell this month. Last week, I got home, did my chores and my homework, and by the time I was done, it was 10:30 PM and if I wanted to get out of bed in the morning, I had to go to sleep. This week has been a bit lax right now, except for the fact that I have an in-class essay to write Thursday and had two tests yesterday, which I failed. Aaaaannnnd I just found out that I have to watch four 10 minute videos before Thursday as well as write notes on them. Fuck my life right now, seriously. They say your sophomore year of high school is the worst, no I'm pretty sure its your junior year.  
> Anyway, enough about my personal life. I have to thank Rick Peterson especially for the constructive criticism. Its the first time it's been constructive and not just plain hate. As for the rest of you, you are all lovely. Thanks for your comments.  
> As always, I love comments more than I love bacon, which, I gotta say, I didn't think was possible. Any comments or constructive criticism is welcome with open arms. And replies are my third favorite thing in the world (behind bacon), so if I leave an opening for a reply, reply back if you want!  
> Thats it for now. The next one will (hopefully) be a multi-chapter fic, and I might not post it until I have at least four chapters done so that I have some leeway when it comes to posting, but I will probably be back.  
> See ya'll then.


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